


Teenagers

by Control_Room



Series: Everyone (or almost everyone) Is Saved [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Withdrawal, going to a bathroom to hide from your pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Some problems were taken care of.





	Teenagers

Wally held a book, but he was not reading. He was glancing at Willy from the corner of his eye. It had been a month since escaping the hell hole of their home, and both of them, though they felt much better, looked worse for the wear, Willy’s hands shaking. Wally frowned, sighing and setting aside his book as he watched Willy clasp his hands together to attempt to quell the trembling.

 

“You alright, brothe’?” he asked him, trying to smile. Willy also tried to copy the expression, both of them hitting ‘grimace’. “You look like shit.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Willy retorted, laying back on his bed in a flop. He sighed, retrospective. “Honestly, I feel like shit, too. Who knew ya could go through ibuprofen withdrawal? Coke an’ meth were one thing, I thought… I thought that somethin’ over the counter wouldn’t do this to a guy, ya know? I really just wanna grab a case an’ pop ‘em all inta my mouth.”

 

“Damn… do you really want it that bad?” Wally bit his lip, they didn’t have the money for another bottle, and Willy knew that, and would never spend money that they needed desperately. Willy nodded, groaning. “Does it hurt?”

 

“Not so much pain as addiction,” Willy answered, pulling his gun out of his boot and setting it on his side table, the simple action causing his head to throb. “I really should see a doc for this.”

 

“Ya should.”

 

“We don’t have insurance.”

 

“Right. Sorry bro… ya gonna have to wait this one out,” Wally sat next to him on the bed, patting his head with sympathy. “Maybe someday.”

 

_ Five Years Later _

 

“So, you want something to reduce temptation to go back to drugs?” a chipper middle aged doctor asked, tapping his pen to his clipboard. Willy duly took in his name tag, reading ‘Frances’. Willy snapped back to reality and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

He left and came back five minutes later.

 

He had an orange bottle in his hand.

 

He had two, actually, one in each.

 

Willy said nothing.

 

“This is Baclofen and this is Antabuse,” he explained, smiling, passing them to him. Willy felt bile rise in his throat. “You can take one of each everyday.”

 

Willy nodded.

 

When he got to the big house they all shared (sans Bertrum and Lacie), he set both on his side table and went to the bathroom to scratch the scars on his arms, feeling nauseous. He scooted himself to the corner of the shower. Joey entered the bathroom, pale and appearing dizzy. He seemed not to see Willy, and he sat on the toilet, dropping his head into his hands, shivering.

 

“PTSD?” Willy asked quietly, not looking up from his own hands. Joey jolted to see him and nodded with a swallow. “Same, buddy.”

 

“Hurts like hell,” Joey forced a laugh, “Especially because you know it’s not happening, but you still feel it.”

 

“Yeah,” Willy agreed. A knock came on the door. “Who’s it?”

 

“Love? It’s me… you ok?” Shawn’s voice was slightly muffled by the wooden door. Willy replied, “Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

 

“Joey in there with you?” Henry’s voice followed. Willy looked to him.

 

“I’m here.” he answered, sucking in a breath. “Just. Just. I need a bit of time.”

 

“Alright sweetheart,” he sounded troubled. A pause filled the air. “Joey… please talk to me. Don’t shut us out, we want to help you….”

 

Willy watched the tears well in the young man’s eyes, watched him leap up and fling open the door, and watched him collapse onto Henry with shuddering sobs. Willy slowly got up and made his way to Shawn, leaning against him. Shawn quietly led them away from the other two.

 

“I saw t’e pill bottles,” he told him softly, kissing his forehead. “I know it must be so hard….”

 

“It’s okay,” Willy whispered. “It’ll get better.”

 

“Are you sure those won’t have bad side effects?”

 

“I’m not planning on taking them.”

 

“Aw, Wills….” Shawn wrapped his arms around his fiance, rocking with him. “We’ll figure something out.”

 

“Joey’s got something to tell us all.” Henry’s baritone intruded. “He’s waiting downstairs.”

 

They followed him, Joey fidgeting in the living room. Everyone sat around, Wally over Thomas’ lap and his head against Sammy’s head. Lacie stood beside Bertrum, who held Psyche. Allison and Susie also shared a seat, Jack and Johnny on the floor. Norman sat near Grant. Kim, Niamh, and Eska also all sat together. Joey smiled waveringly at the three newcomers.

 

“I… I’ve been hiding… a lot,” Joey admitted, standing. His hands twitched, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to show you all something, but please don’t overreact….”

 

“Alright,” Lacie prompted, tilting hir head in a continual. “C’mon Drew.”

 

He nodded, and rose a hand to undo his shirt. The others exchanced startled glances. Joey’s other hand held his shirt shut, and he could feel the rapid beat of his heart. He dropped his head, breathing heavily.

 

“This… this is something I’ve never showed anyone, not even Henry,” he gave a hollow chuckle. “I always insisted to be left on my back… and I promised an explanation. Here it is.”

 

He took off the shirt, turning around.

 

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 

There was no other sound unti-

 

“Who the  _ fuck _ did this,” Lacie growled, breathing harsh. She stalked over to him, tracing the scars and burns. Only Bertrum had seen Lacie so passionate about anything. Speaking of the demigod, anger burned like hades in his eyes. Blazing tears streaked Henry’s face. Lacie cupped Johan’s face, making him lean to look hir in the eyes. “Joey… Joey, please tell us who did this so your uncle and I can tear them to shreds.”

 

“Hey!” Henry interjected. “Me too! No one can hurt any of us, and if they do or did, it’s time for a whoop ass!”

 

“I know who did it,” Willy quietly said, recalling a tete a tete he had shared with Joey. “His stepdad, Paul Drew.”

 

“Dead meat.” Henry laughed angrily.

 

The others agreed with vicious grins.

 

Joey knew he smiled.


End file.
